


The Darkness

by LittleBluejay_SingingSongs



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24814963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBluejay_SingingSongs/pseuds/LittleBluejay_SingingSongs
Summary: A distant world 🌏 in a distant galaxy with a star ⭐️ too far away to heat the planet. 🌑 There lived a girl named Traff. 🧍♀️Available in a podfic.
Relationships: Galla/Lysonnenen





	1. The passing of Lys.

**Author's Note:**

Traff followed the path along the curved line of trash that surrounded the whole, lit world. The only break in the circular trash wall was crowded with hundreds of people. Old man Lys, had died. He’d been a beloved member of the whole world. Everyone wanted a view of his passing into heaven and had moved up to a favorite spot on the piles of trash. The mood was festive. They were happy for him. Happy he was passing into heaven. And happy there was now a vacancy.

A horn sounded. Everyone began to sing the song of passage. Saying their goodbye’s to Lys. Watching intently they sang as the pallet was shoved out the gate and pushed with long rods into the blackness. The rims of the wooden pallet moved along ruts worn into the ground. The pallet reached the lip of the curve in the frozen ground. The cliff. The falling spot. The point of no return. His body slid off. The men wearing warm gloves pulled the rope attached to the sled and brought it back inside the gate. Many people respectfully reached out a hand and touched the now frozen pallet. Those closest to Lys left their whole handprint in the frost. Others touched the tips of a finger or two. Parents encouraged their little ones to feel the coldness. Some bravely touched it, shreaking at the ice. Others cried and clung to their mothers.

Everyone knew Craig’s wife, the whole world, really, had wished old man Lys had died two days earlier. Before she’d given birth. There being no blank slot on the board, meant the Crag’s had to place their newborn son into the darkness. To die. They had two choices; three really. But, killing the child was an option never considered, an option nobody ever took. Instead they had the option to place the child on the pallet and push him to the cliff. Or do what most did, what Craig had done. He climbed the highest trash pile, with his child wrapped in a white cloth that had been covered in a white reflective dust. He kissed his son goodbye. “I love you, Hope. May the good messenger find you and take you to heaven, to be with God.” He tucked the cloth over the child’s face, did a twirl and heaved his son into the darkness. Every eye peered into the darkness watching for the messenger. Usually the messenger was not seen. But, the family took hope, because everyone confirmed, they had not seen the child hit the ground.

Traff looked up. Many of the younger people did too. After staring into the darkness looking up into the closest of the seven lights above was blinding. It was fun. She made sure she didn’t smile. This was a serious moment. The changing of the slat.

The leader, Stil Hvidhed, solemnly led the way to the center of their world. Everyone copied her manner of walking. Hvidhed meant whiteness and this was the age of doing things in the style of Hvidhed, until she either gave up her position or passed into heaven.

The wall of slats was circular, surrounding the middle pole, with it’s six lights at the top. The poles were very tall. So tall, the six lights at the top appeared to merge into one.

Stil Hvidhed walked alone around the wall of slats. Traff thought the Still was being ostentatious and officiousness, walking proudly around the whole wall, as if making sure all five hundred and twelve names were still listed. Especially when Lys’s name was right in front.

Stil watched over Lys’s relatives as they took down his slat. Paint was covered over Lys’s name. Five hundred and twelve became five hundred and eleven. The blank slat was returned to the wall.

Traff looked around and found her neighbor Galla. Galla was pregnant and was due in twelve to fourteen days. Traff sympathized with Galla and knew she felt no relief at the sight of the blank space. Sollys was due any day. In fact Sollys may deliver her child today. Meaning unless something terrible happened to Sollys’ baby or someone else unexpectedly passed on, Galla’s husband Lysonnenen would be tossing her child into the darkness, hopefully to be caught by the messenger.


	2. The messengers.

Below ground in a bunker type room, Nolly looked at the other three with some dismay. Then he focused on Terit. “Why? Why, did you go? You got one job Terit. One job only. Keep the reactors running. They die we die.” He knelt one fist on the table and pointed with the other at Terit. Bent and Arrie both thought Nolly might go right over the table and do what? Attack the only man who was keeping them alive?

“You never leave here again.”

“I was just getting some exercise.”

Nolly sighed and straightened up. For Nolly, at six foot five, that could be very intimidating.

“I just needed to get out. For a change of pace. Do something different for a while. Catch the dead, bring it to Camp Beta.”

Nolly flipped both hands up, palms out, pushing towards Terit. “Stop. Stop. On the good side.” He flipped to a page on his IPad and shoved it in Terit’s direction. Terit looked at it. “Back up is coming.” Nolly grinned. “Really quick. Four hundred days.”

Terit moved the flat device to Bent and Arrie. Everyone grinned. A warm fuzzy feeling grew until the were up and singing. With a comradery of working together for over twenty two years, they finished up the days work. Light hearted jokes accompanied the cooking of the “evening” meal.


End file.
